


kill your darlings

by Babydoll Ria (Babydoll_Ria)



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Hockey, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-30
Updated: 2014-08-30
Packaged: 2018-02-15 08:53:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,584
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2223012
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Babydoll_Ria/pseuds/Babydoll%20Ria
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the air port is where Annie Cresta has her heartbroken</p>
            </blockquote>





	kill your darlings

It’s an air port gate, cold by the air conditioning, watching him disappear into the terminal, that Annie Cresta, almost twenty-three has her heart break.

He doesn’t look back, doesn’t think of looking back. This is his future, what he wants more than anything, more than her. It’s an internship with Facebook, it’s San Francisco, and millions of miles away from Detroit.

‘Stay’ had died on her tongue, unable to get past her teeth and the lump she had swallowed watching him back up his socks, detangling her pink ones from his tub socks in their drawer.

Her drawer now; like it’s her apartment, her cat, her beat-up ‘97 Volkswagen, her life in Detroit.

Everything is hers now, because he left. There’s so much space in this tiny one bedroom apartment that she feels claustrophobic.

* * *

 

She has to stop feeling sad-logically she has to. She’s also run out of wine money and has resorted to drinking box wine while watching the _Step Up_ franchise because Gloss never liked them. Eventually, Annie thinks as she watches Channing Tatum introduce his little sister, she’ll end up buying _Capri Sun_ and let it ferment to get some cheaper wine.

Also it will come with straws.

Gloss has texted her sporadically over the first two weeks in San Francisco, at first it was every five minutes, like it was when they were eighteen and freshmen at NYU, but as he became acclimatized they became once a day, and now she’ll get a text every two days.

It’s embarrassing how she still feels all warm and fuzzy, lit up like a jack-o-lantern when she gets those messages.

He doesn’t miss her, not as much as she misses him.

But then again, he chose to leave.

* * *

 

Enobaria, her boss at the Southeast Tower, is a tall striking woman whom the only way Annie has ever been able to describe her is piranha like-though apparently catfish like would be more apt as they apparently eat people-at least according to _River Monsters_ (Hey she can’t always binge watch _Step Up_ )-and she corners her in a stairwell with a latte in one hand, and her iPhone with Siri dictating her schedule in the other.

‘Cresta you’re a mess.’

‘Gloss left.’

Enobaria raises one perfectly fierce eyebrow. Annie makes a mental note to ask her boss- at a time when she isn’t being interrogated about her shambles of a love life-how she managed to have such a fierce eyebrow game and how she can wing her eyeliner like a queen. ‘So?’

‘So my boyfriend of six years left.’ Six years of Disney, of cottage trips with Cashmere and looking at wedding dresses and bride magazines while they buy groceries. Six years of canoe trips, and photo booths and talking about buying a house. ‘I’m allowed to be a mess.’

‘Not on my time you aren’t. You look like shit.’

When Annie looks down to complain, she realizes there’s a run on her tights up the thigh, and peep toe pumps. She’s also not fully tucked her blouse into her pencil skirt all the way.

‘Fuck,’ she curses and she kicks off her shoes in the empty stairwell while Enobaria drinks her coffee. She wiggles out of her tights and winces when she realizes she hasn’t shaved her legs in two weeks. She looks helplessly at Enobaria.

‘Keep the tights on Cresta, just stay at your damn desk.’

Enobaria is already gone, off to a conference call; she doesn’t see Annie cover her face and sigh.

* * *

 

It is August, and Gloss has been gone for four months, and she might get a Facebook poke, or a text message and she wonders how this can be considered dating. Her Facebook status still says in a relationship with Gloss but she wonders if it’s true.

It’s not right, the way they’re doing this, but ending it would be admitting a failure, and she’s never failed. Not really, she just hasn’t…gotten what she wants yet.

When she clicks on Gloss’s Facebook profile, there are pictures of him with his new friends out in bars in San Francisco. The girls are pretty; so are the boys in a coke glasses knit sweater sort of way.

It makes her feel hollow.

She feeds the cat, and gets Netflicks open on the Playstation, wondering what series to being binge watching tonight when her phone beeps with a text from Enobaria, telling her she had to get down to 349 Monroe St. ASAP and dress nice.

She’s in yoga pants and an old NYU sweatshirt.

Nice will take awhile.

In fact, Nice takes forty-five minutes, because after showering and tossing her fair in a messy fishtail, she’s stuck staring at what the hell nice is on a Friday at almost nine at night.

She settles on skinny jeans and one of those nice turquoise tops that have a little flair. She goes fancy with high heels.

It doesn’t take her long to cab to Greektown, and she can tell that the Irish pub with it’s shingled walls in an all brick block is exactly the type of place her boss would frequent. Iconic and outrageous, and when she steps in, her clutch like a sword in her hand, welcoming after an obnoxious front.

She sees Enobaria watching the door and when she enters, her boss’s dark eyes light up and makes a motion over her martini for her to come, and she can see the company her boss is keeping.

There’s two old men-old being figitive, but they’re in their forties when Enobaria is a newly minted thirty. One of them is darker skinned, with a scowl, the other with messy hair that looks greasy is nursing a beer like it was born in his hands. A dark haired girl in a short bob with kohl mapping her eyes like she got angry while doing her make up. The last occupant is a tall man, in his twenties with reddish gold hair and green eyes smirking at her like he already knows her.

‘Cresta you do not know what ASAP means do you?’ Enobaria chastises her, as she drags a chair to the other end of the table.

‘You told me to look nice. Yoga pants aren’t nice,’ she says waving down a waitress and getting the house red, and ID’d in the process. It’s somewhat humiliating to still be ID but she can’t help it if she has a round face and small features. ‘I’m Annie.’

‘Right. Fuck. You don’t know anyone.’ Enobaria motions listlessly to the people around the table, ’So that’s Haymitch he’s a partner at my husband‘s-Brutus- firm, that’s Jo his-I don’t know what you are, they don’t do titles- and this is Finn. Jo’s gay best friend.’

‘Not gay,’ Finn corrects smirking at her over his beer, ‘but otherwise correct.’

‘Nice to meet you.’ She does recall seeing Brutus at a few Christmas parties, but she and Gloss also spent that time sneaking quickies in conference rooms. ‘Why am I here?’

Perhaps it’s not her finest moment, but she was going to get herself into _House of Cards_ this weekend, and it takes stamina to marathon TV shows.

 

‘Because it’s been four fucking months. Your boyfriend Is gone and just because you don’t change your Facebook status, doesn’t mean you’re still in a relationship.’

If she winces into the red, no one notices.

Instead the conversation goes on about the baseball game early today.

When she goes up to bar to get another drink, Finn follows her telling an anecdote about SeaWorld that she’s not fully listening to.

‘Let me buy you a drink,’ Finn tells her as she leans against the bar, pushing her cleavage up trying to get the bartender’s attention. When her eyes flicker to the man leaning against the bar lazily, eyes twinkling at the covert glances coy women are sending him-and some men.

‘I’m not sleeping with you.’

‘I never said that. I said I wanted to buy you a drink.’

‘Why would you buy me a drink for a girl you’ve never met before, if you’re not trying to sleep with her?’ she counters, leaning closer and closer to the bar, propping herself up on the footgear, to the point where she could reach over the bar and pour herself a whiskey.

‘You’re not really good at this whole social thing are you?’ Finn says mildly. ‘You look like you’ve been having a shitty week and I’m a decent guy so I’m offering to buy you a drink.’

‘Thanks but no thanks.’

Finn shrugs, ‘Up to you. Hey, can I get another Canadian?’

Almost immediately, the bartender reaches into the cooler and pulls out a beer bottle in exchange for a tenner; Finn waves and saunters back to the table, ‘Later Cresta.’

She glares at his curls.

* * *

 

On Monday Enobaria tells her she has to go out on Wednesday night with her and Jo.

Annie shakes her head and texts Gloss if they can Skype on Wednesday

He doesn’t answer, and after work on Wednesday Enobaria drives Annie to sushi with Jo and they both laugh as she fails to figure out how to use chopsticks.

‘Why are you doing this?’ she asks as they get more green tea.

Enobaria looks up from choosing the best piece of unagi and stares Annie in the eye with quiet intensity.

‘You moved to Detroit when you were twenty-one with just your boyfriend. You don’t have any family here, and your best friend is your cat. I’ve seen what happens to people who lock themselves away forever, and I’m not letting that happen to you.’

‘Oh.’

‘What’s the story with this anyway?’ Jo asks, adding more wasabi to the soy sauce. ‘Like I got a really fucking short cliff notes version of it, and as your new girl gang, I need to know the real stuff.’

‘My what?’

‘Girl gang. Group of women who’ve got your back. Kind of like a sorority without the blood pack, and more alcohol. Because we’re all legal.’ Jo says.

‘I don’t have a girl gang.’

‘Well you’re shitty in the friend department, your love life is fucked up and you drink like a fish. We’re practically sisters,’ she counters and Annie can’t find a way to get out of this argument. ‘So, Cresta, what’s the story?’

‘Gloss and I are together. And he’s in San Francisco.’ It’s that simple.

‘It’s not together when you barely talk.’ Enobaria points out.

‘When was the last time you had sex?’ Jo asks, curious.

She knows that when she drinks white wine she gets bright red from the tip of her roots to her baby toes, and she knows that when she talks about sex with anyone-even Gloss she turns as red. Sex isn’t something she talks about. Not even with Thresh, back in high school when they planned on how to loose their virginities.

‘Why does it-’

‘Because a relationship doesn’t work if you’re not having sex. If you’re not physically showing you’re in love how the fuck can you still be mentally in love?’

‘Some people don’t need the physical!’ she’s scarlet, almost yelling in hush toned.

‘And those people are called asexual sweetheart,’ Enobaria says slowly, like Annie’s stupid, ‘I know for a fact you and Gloss had sex because you fucked on the photocopier. So don’t give us that bullshit that you’re okay without the physical.’

If it were possible, she’s even more red.

‘Six months.’ she whispers.

Johanna whistles.

‘Gloss left four months ago.’ her boss points out. Annie nods her confirmation. The other women exchange looks.

‘It’s been…it’s been a rough year. Cash got married last July and it’s just…and then Facebook called and…’ she trails off as Enobaria tells Jo who Cashmere is.

‘So Gloss is in San Francisco. And did you even talk about it?’

Annie doesn’t answer, which is all they need to know.

* * *

 

She’s never really had girl friends, she had friends, but they were all Gloss’s friends and she’s found that once Gloss left, they teetered out as well. Cashmere hasn’t even called her and she was maid of honour.

It’s not like she’s a girl all wrapped up in her boyfriend, it’s just Gloss has been there since she was eighteen and drinking beer with a fake ID terrified she’s going to get kicked out this dingy club that’s probably breaking fifty health codes.

It’s like he’s her skin, or a lamp or just something so permanently fixture in her life that her sense of reality is keltered with him gone.

It’s just going to take a while.

* * *

 

She runs into Finn at the gym.

That sounds like a punch line to a joke, but it’s not and she’s not sure how to proceed with the knowledge that she has now that Finn does yoga.

Or that he looks good in spandex. She dallies with the thought that he’s just a shower, but decides thinking about her “girl gang”’ Jo’s best friend’s penis is not something she wants to think about.

At all.

It’s Finn who recognizes her as she comes out from cardio looking like a sweaty pig, with her hair falling out of a ponytail and sticking to her face.

‘Cresta! Hey Cresta, wait up!’ heads turn as Finn jogs through the people heading towards the changing rooms, with a green yoga mat slung over his shoulder, ‘How ya been?’

‘Good.’ Annie says, looking at the yoga mat. ‘Seriously?’

He shrugs, he’s smirking and she wonders if he has any other expression, ‘It works out my core.’

She knows, from Jo, that Finn is a hockey player, defensemen and assisstant captain for the Red Wings, and if she knew a thing about hockey, she’s sure she would be impressed.

But as the knowledge she has on sports would fit into the head of a pin, she’s unable to actually talk about his job.

‘How are you?’ she says finally after a few minutes of awkward silence and a tip of the head from Finn realizing he’s prompting her.

‘I’m good. We’re doing really good in the preseason,’ Finn says conversationally. ‘It’s been like a month. Are you done?’

‘It’s September. There’s no snow. How on earth are you playing hockey?’ she asks, Finn laughs.

‘I’ll tell you at coffee.’ he promises.

‘Where did this come from?’

‘I already said we haven’t seen each other in a month, we have to catch up. C’mon Cresta, keep up.’ Finn flashes his teeth playfully and she wrinkles her brow.

‘We’ve only met once.’

‘Yeah, but Jo’s my best friend, and as her surrogate big brother, you are by proxy one of my best friends. And we have not seen each other in a month. So coffee is in order. I’ll even let you buy.’ He begins to saunter off to the men’s changing room, ‘Meet you in ten.’

He doesn’t let her argue.

Ten minutes later, after the quickest shower and no make up later, she’s looking wet and tired in an oversized sweater and skinny jeans with ankle boots. She wasn’t expecting her Saturday morning to be hijacked by Finn, and had dressed for the gym and getting cat litter.

They were in the Starbucks in the gym, in a corner, and she was looking at Finn over her vanilla bean latte with a look that could only be describe as “entertain me”, she doesn’t know him from Adam, and he wants to catch up.

Right.

‘So Jo likes you,’ Finn says causally sipping his Americano cringing when he burns his tongue. She had watched him stir in six sweetener packets, when she grabbed a lid. ‘ Jo doesn’t like a lot of people, so her liking you is a pretty big deal.’

‘Are you going to warn me about how you’re going to hunt me down and slap shot me if I break her heart?’ she asks wirily. Finn laughs.

It’s a deep belly laugh, the type that’s infectious and can get an entire room laughing at a dirty joke, an interesting story or a deadpan insult made in jest.

It’s a good laugh.

‘No,’ Finn tells her good naturedly, ‘but I can tell why she likes you. Who’d thought the little mouse has such a quick wit?’

‘Mouse?’ Annie echoes, mildly insulted, ‘I’ve got Jo-approval, I’ve got to be at least small domestic mammal level.’

‘People keep mice as pets.’ he argues, his green eyes twinkling.

‘Not sane people.’ she shoots back.

‘Master Splinter is a shinning example of why mice are awesome!’

‘A. Master Splinter is a rat and B. being called a mutated rat who knows karate who lived in a sewer teaching turtles is not a compliment. You might need to work on your game Odair.’

‘My game Cresta,’ Finn leans across the table, close enough that she can count his freckles. It’s odd, a grown man shouldn’t have freckles-it makes him look young; Jo told her he’s twenty-five. ‘My game is impeccable.’

‘Mhm.’ she leans back taking a long sip. ‘That’s what they all say.’

‘O-oh, so what else do they say Cresta?’

Annie shrugs, there’s a ghost of a smirk on her face that she would swear up and down on a stack of bibles that it never happened, ‘Oh you know, how you’re always weak on your right flank so Crosby scored on you kicking you out of the playoffs.’

There’s a look of sweet satisfaction at the way Finn looks gob smacked-she knows she doesn’t know anything about hockey, but Google is her friend. Also he takes longer than ten minutes to get ready after the gym.

‘…they do say that,’ he says finally, finishing his drink. ‘But what do they say about you Miss Cresta?’

‘An unhealthy addiction to Netflicks.’

* * *

 

It’s the seventeenth of October, when Gloss changes his Facebook status without telling her.

It shouldn’t bother her, they hadn’t talked in weeks by any forms of communication. And it also shouldn’t bother her that Cashmere’s no longer her Facebook friend, when it’s been months.

But still, to break up by seeing the tiny blue and black font change from “in a relationship” to “single” hurts more than she would care to admit, and so she calls in sick from work and binge watches the _Kill Bill_ series because that’s what she wants, blood and gore and violence.

She’s never been a _Notebook_ kind of gal anyway.

She rethinks her _Capri Sun_ juice pouch wine idea trying to cuddle with her four year old cat, and her hair is a messy bun.

It could be a real money saver.

* * *

 

She’s invited to Jo and Haymitch’s Halloween party, and she’s not quite sure what to do for a costume-they don’t seem like really costume people, so she wears a blue dress and ties her hair up with a red ribbon and figures if they do costumes she can say she’s a really lame Kiki, and if they don’t do costumes, she looks fine.

She’s not that surprised to see that it’s small, the hosting couple, her boss and her husband, one of Jo’s editors at the paper a man named Chaff, and a woman named Cecelia whose three kids are watching some animated horror movie on the TV, eating candy while the adults are drinking and playing trivia pursuit.

Not exactly a rager.

But then again, Haymitch is in his forties, and so is Chaff, Cecelia and Brutus. Perhaps this just the type of party they like.

‘Finn’s at the Wing’s party.’ Jo announces when Annie gets to their townhouse; to her delight Enobaria is wearing fake fangs and Brutus has a Frankenstein Monster bolts around his neck. The others are dressed in bits and bobs of costumes. Chaff has a hook, while Cecelia is wearing a witch hat, and long fake nails. Jo is in an orange jumpsuit, while Haymitch has on Spock ears.

‘Okay,’ Annie says, handing over the bottles of wine she brought, and making introductions. ‘I never asked.’

‘I know,’ Jo says pouring a generous amount of wine into four glasses and handing it to the ladies, ‘I just thought since you two are coffee buddies, you’d wanna know.’

‘You’re coffee buddies with Finn?’ Cecelia says, tipping the hat back, making the phrase “coffee buddies” sound scandalous.

‘It was just once. And it was actually just coffee.’ Annie brushes it aside, but the three other woman are like vultures-or sharks, sensing blood in the water and circling. Even though, there is no metaphorical blood because nothing happened and nothing will. ‘I ran into the gym, and we had coffee after he finished his yoga.’

‘Finn does yoga?’ Enobaria snorts. ‘Of course he would.’

‘Seriously, nothing happened. Nothing will happen. Can you just drop it?’

‘I think the lady doth protest too much.’ Cecelia says, ‘Finn’s single, and you’re single so why not jump his bones?’

‘Can we just not talk about my single-ness?’ Annie asks, before leaving the kitchen, and giving Brutus the winning answer to get his blue piece in trivia pursuit.

She pretends she can’t hear Cecelia asking if it was too soon, and Enobaria replying it’s about fourteen days fresh “officially.”

She ends up leaving their house at three in the morning, citing not wanting to be in the house while Haymitch and Jo go at it. She’s not the last to leave, that’s Chaff who takes their offer of the couch.

She thinks this night of board games, beer, wine and good food is the best type of party you can have.

* * *

 

When she picks up the paper November first, the picture on the front page is Finn Odair as Tarzan at the Detroit Red Wing’s Halloween party. She hopes he had fun.

* * *

 

She’s not sure when Finn got her number, when they’ve seen each other maybe twice since the coffee at the gym, always with Johanna, Haymitch, Enobaria, Brutus and with Chaff and sometimes Cecelia depending on who has the kids and it all depends on Finn’s game schedule, now that the pre-season has ended and the official season has begun. She doesn’t understand the hockey thing at all.

But Finn does and she gets a phone call while she’s trying to figure out if it’s logical for her to make the two and a half hour flight to New Orleans.

 _‘Hey Cresta,’_ he says in a tone that she has finally decided always makes it sound like he’s got a secret or a joke about you that he’s let everyone else know and is waiting for you to find out, _‘Jo says you’re staying in Detroit for Thanksgiving.’_

‘I might be,’ she answers, scrolling through flights and seeing they’re all pretty booked, and if they’re not booked, they’re extremely expensive, ‘All the flights back to New Ahleens look full.’

 _‘You’re from New Orleens?’_ She almost drops the phone when she hears Finn’s accent, lighter than hers but she left New Orleans when she was eighteen, and her accent has become curbed by a New Yorker one and it only comes out when she’s drunk or talking of home.

‘Mhm. How’d you get my number?’

‘ _I’m from Baton Rouge.’_

‘They have hockey in Baton Rouge?’

‘ _Why wouldn’t they?’_

She can’t give him a look over the phone, so she settles for an unamused silence, before he caves and continues, clearly disappointed she’s not playing his game properly.

_‘I moved to Vermont when I was ten.’_

‘That makes more sense. There’s snow.’ Also why she never heard his accent before, she prides herself on being able to find a Louisiana accent in a crowd of people.

‘Yeah, so anyway, if you’re not going back then come over Sunday for Thanksgiving.’

‘What?’

_‘I’m having Thanksgiving, my Maw-Maw and Grampa are coming up, and my uncle and auntie, and so are Haymitch and Jo, and Enobaria and the rest.’_

‘I don’t-’

 _‘If you really wanted to go home, you’d make plans for flights a lot earlier than the Wednesday before.’_ Finn points out. She wonders if he can see her cheeks burn, but by the way he follows up with _‘Just bring wine and come at like two. It’ll be fun!’_ she can hear his smirk a thousand times stronger and she thinks he must.

Point, Odair.

* * *

 

Her dress is a red lace one, and she’s plaited her hair and stuck it up in a loose knot at the nape of her neck. It’s Thanksgiving, and the nice fancy penthouse in the downtown core makes her uncomfortable because her scarf is from _Target_ and she doesn’t think anyone in this building a she waits for the elevator has ever stepped foot in target.

(That’s a hyperbole, once she gets into Finn’s place, she can find three _Wal-Mart_ bags on his counter as he runs around panicking because he doesn’t actually know how to cook a turkey.)

Enobaria is the one who lets her in, in a slimming orange dress that makes her look fantastic, and it’s already a whirlwind of action. Something’s burning-the mash potatoes she finds out when Finn tells her that she needs to make mash potatoes because he can’t and Enobaria and Jo are drinking and the last time they cooked drunk they almost burnt down Jo’s townhouse, and Enobaria kisses her on the cheek with a glass full of wine and wishes her happy Thanksgiving.

She returns in kind, slipping off her shoes in the hodgepodge of shoes in the foyer and following Enobaria into the condo.

It’s rather sparsely decorated with more chrome and black leather than she thought, and on the flat screen TV there’s already the football game with Chaff, Haymitch, Jo, a man in his late fifties-perhaps in his sixties with glasses, and a woman of the similar age beside, and an old man somewhat dozing but still nodding along with the fast and furious commentary Jo and Chaff .

(Chaff is the head sports editor at _The Detroit News,_ and Jo’s a columnist, focusing surprisingly, on hockey.)

The people she doesn’t know, she assumes are Finn’s family.

It’s an open concept layout, so from the living room, she can see Finn an old woman with white hair and the ever classic pearls arguing in the kitchen.

Enobaria clears her throat, and Finn turns and grins.

‘Annie!’ he says rushing to her, an apron with stains tied around him and he hugs her tightly. She half heartedly hugs with one hand, patting him on the back, the other hand holds the bottle of wine between them like a barrier. She’s not a really huggy person. ‘Thank god you’re here!’

He takes her hand and drags her into the kitchen and when she looks for help Enobaria is already sliding back onto the couch.

‘Annie this my Maw-Maw,’ Finn says making introductions as Annie slowly sets the paper bag holding the wine on the kitchen counter, ‘Maw-Maw this is Annie.’

‘Pleasure to meet you.’ Annie smiles, holding out her hand. His grandmother is tall, with green eyes that refract the light and a sweet smile. When she speaks, she has such a think Louisiana accent it makes her homesick.

‘The pleasure is all mine.’ Maw-Maw says, before sharing a secretive smile mirrored on Finn’s face, ‘I hope Finnick hasn’t been bothering you too much.’

Annie laughs, it’s not a polite laugh, but a real one, because it’s just a tiny bit funny. She barely knows him, so he couldn’t be bothering her. ‘No, although one day he is going to have to explain how he managed to meet me after his yoga sessions.’

Because, perhaps she’s lied a bit to Enobaria, Jo and Cecelia when it’s not her week with the kids and she can come out for sushi. Pretty steadily, Finn has caught her on the way from cardio after his yoga and convinced her to get coffee with him. It’s not every week, maybe every two weeks or so, but it’s still surprising.

‘Yoga?’ Maw-Maw says, ‘Finnick you are doing yoga?’

‘Whose doing yoga ma?’ the man with glasses and a kind smile that becomes a teasing one that has a lot of resemblance to Finn’s smirk. Only the man’s face is more rounder and a bit darker.

‘Finnick, Beetree, Finnick is doing Yoga.’

‘It works out my core.’ Finn protests, but he’s overruled by the teasing that begins loudly by Haymitch and Brutus.

Gran shakes her head, and takes Annie’s coat and excuses herself to watch the game, leaving Annie alone with Finn. There’s a wounded expression on his face that she almost believes-he should have been an actor.

‘Why would you tell them that?’ he asks, ‘I thought we were friends Cresta.’

‘You called me Master Splinter.’ she points out, seeing that the pasta needs to be stirred, and finishing the task, ‘At least I didn’t tell them you drink your Americano with ten sweeteners. You’re going to get diabetes you know.’

‘Never,’ Finn tells her hip checking her aside lightly to stare at the turkey in the oven in the foil container. ‘Something that good could never kill me.’

‘It gave mice cancer,’ she points out.

‘So Master Splinter has an unnatural hatred of sweetener built on revenge.’

‘For the last time, Master Splinter is a rat!’

* * *

 

　

They have dinner at six, Jo and Enobaria are trusted with setting the table, something Finn believes they can’t mess up despite the three bottles of wine between them. Annie’s only had half a bottle, as she helped rescue dinner from Finn who admitted after burning rice three times that cooking involves calling the restaurant and paying.

He did stress that he can make the best chicken, and isn’t chicken just a smaller version of turkey?

Annie wonders how he passed biology.

Maw-Maw and Grampa sit at the heads of the table-their real names, she hears from Haymitch are Mags and Woof, but Mags refuses to answer Annie when she calls her Mags or Ma’am, only answering to Maw-Maw and Woof follows his wife’s lead. She sits beside Enobaria, and Jo, with Chaff on the end of their side, apparently sulking because Cecelia and her ex agreed to do Thanksgiving together as a family. Across from her is Finn.

The conversation spins around and around, ebbing and flowingly with multiple conversations at the same time that all happen when you several people with loud personalities who all love each other.

Annie is very happy, until inevitably it turns to hockey, and how Finn is trying to get everyone to go to a game, and no one really wants to. Well Jo and Chaff are up for it, but Haymitch thinks it’s too cold and Enobaria and Annie by extension have to go to Japan next week.

That stops the conversation and Mags asks Annie what she does exactly.

‘I’m a lawyer,’ she tells the room, realizing that many of them-Beetree and his wife Wiress, Haymitch, Chaff, maybe even Finn because she’s never discussed her work before. ‘I specialize in international contracts, so when um we’re making deals with Japanese industries I…make the contracts and stuff.’

Haymitch looks interested, he and Brutus are defence lawyers, often taking pro bono cases. She knows very little about criminal law and has no interest in that area.

‘Could you look at my contract?’ Finn asks, and she rolls her eyes.

* * *

 

At nearly eleven, after Brutus, Haymitch and Beetree have finished the washing up, they begin to head out. Annie has to go on a hunt to find her trench coat, and it’s in the master bedroom closet, hung up beside Finn’s sport coats, instead of the hall closet like all the rest.

‘Thank you for having me,’ Annie says to Finn after kissing Mags-Maw-Maw- on the cheek politely, and hugging Woof and Wiress goodbye with a firm handshake from Beetree. ‘I have a lovely time.’

‘Why don’t you come tomorrow?’ Finn asks, watching her balance as she slips on her booties. ‘There’s a family skate at Joe Louis.’

‘I don’t know how to skate.’ Annie says pausing at the door, and there’s a look of mock horror on his face. At least she would like to think it’s mock horror.

‘Cresta how are we friends?’

She smirks, ‘I’m a Louisiana girl, and Louisiana girls don’t skate.’

‘Bull.’

‘What ever you say sug,’ Annie smirks, knowing the rest of his family can hear the stronger New Orleans accents, ‘G’night _Finnick_.’

She’s laughing as she closes the door behind her.

* * *

 

On Wednesday, the Red Wings are in Toronto to play, and so she gets a good bye safe flight text from Finnick before she turns off her phone.

Enobaria sees the message and raises her eyebrows.

‘It’s not like that.’

‘I didn’t say anything.’

‘You were thinking it. And you’re wrong. We’re not even friends.’

‘Then what are you?’

‘I dunno,’ Annie shrugs, ‘Coffee buddies?’

* * *

 

After a long week, Annie wants nothing more to get her cat back, Netflicks, and to sleep in a bed that doesn’t feel lumpy.

There’s no one she really wants to talk to; her mother has Skype her a few times, and Enobaria nods when she says she won’t be coming into work the next day. So she doesn’t think of taking her phone off air plane mode, until three in the afternoon the next day.

In which she promptly receives twenty messages from Finnick, some of them of the score of the games he played that she missed, others snap shots of Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, and one of a puppy with the question _“Should I or no???”_

There’s also a missed a call from him.

Sighing, she calls him back. ‘Finnick? Everything okay?’ She like his full name, purely because he doesn’t like it, and has decided to use it every chance she can.

‘So she lives.’

‘I was asleep. ‘ she points out. ‘What’s up?’

‘You didn’t call, didn’t text. Cresta I didn’t even get a messenger pigeon I’m so disappointed. At least Enobaria liked my photo on Instagram. How would I know that your plane didn’t crash?’

‘I figure CNN would report on a plan exploding.’

 _‘C’mon Cresta, we both know the only reliable news source is Fox.’_ He sounds so honest, that if she hadn’t heard him ripping to shred Fox a few weeks before, she’d have beloved him. She snorts in response.

‘I’m alive. So what’s up?’

_‘I bought the dog.’_

‘What?’

‘His name is Gambit.’

‘You can’t have a dog Finnick, you’re on the road a lot.’ Annie says, sitting up right in bed, trying to finger brush her hair.

‘I know, so I need you to dog sit.’

‘I can’t dog sit! I work eight plus hours a day!’

‘You have a cat.’

‘Cats and dogs are different. My cat barely cared that I was gone for a week because Katniss was feeding him-or I think the smaller one…the flower one was.’

‘The what?’

‘My neighbours,’ Annie says absently, ‘Finnick you can’t leave a dog alone for that long.’

‘I know. I’ve been taking Gambit to practise.’

‘Oh fuck,’ Annie sighs, ‘And how did that go?’

‘He chases pucks and he’s pretty good on the ice.’

‘This is a bad idea. It’s a huge commitment.’

‘I’ll bring Chinese and you can meet him.’

‘Finnick--’

He hangs up and Annie sighs. Apparently she needs to shower now.

* * *

 

Gambit is a three month old husky, who first meets Annie by placing his paws on her legs and trying to lick her face, and missing.

Finnick almost has a sorry look on his face, but instead he has his phone out and has a picture of Annie in yoga pants, and a tank with damp hair having a staring contest with a puppy.

Her poor cat is hissing from the sofa.

Finnick kicks off his shoes and follows her to the kitchen, setting the takeout on the table while Annie rummages around for the dog bowls she had to run out and buy from the local pet stores, as well as dog food.

‘Why did you get a dog?’

‘What, no hi Finnick how was work? No thank you Finnick for bringing home food so I don’t have to cook?’ he says mildly, setting everything up. ‘Chicken ball?’

‘Nope,’ Annie gets out plates for them, and forks. ‘Straight to the dog.’

　

She accepts the chicken ball and slaughters it in the sauce while Gambit eats the dry kibble loudly and Demeter watches from the doorway.

‘I dunno,’ Finnick shrugs, ‘I’ve been in Detroit three years, I’m lonely, might as well get a dog.’

‘It looks like I’m the one taking care of the dog.’

Finnick looks like he’s trying to argue but as Gambit curls up in a ball, he really can’t. ‘I’ll pay you in takeout. Next time, Greek?’

Annie sighs. ‘You really don’t cook.’

‘You know you should get Instagram, or twitter or some sort of social media besides Facebook.’ Finnick says conversationally stubbornly trying to use chopsticks for fried rice.

‘I had Instagram,’ she tells him, ’but I deleted it.’

‘Why?’

She gives a non-committal shrug, and he leaves it at that. There were just too many pictures of Gloss and her and memories for her to want to keep Instagram.

They spend the next four hours trying to teach Gambit how to sit.

* * *

 

The Christmas party is at Enobaria and Brutus’s and she and Jo come with the most sexual looking ornaments to decorate the large Douglas Fir tree stuck in the corner.

Brutus lets them in with a hug, and a kiss on the cheek. Haymitch is already there, and he’s got the middle child on his back, riding him like a horse. Cecelia’s oldest is in the corner, on his brand new phone, while Cecelia and Enobaria are giving Chaff and Finn directions on how to make scallop potatoes.

Gambit is there, chasing the laughing three year old around and when he sees Annie, he runs to her, tail wagging, barking loudly sitting.

‘Hey baby, hi puppy.’ Annie drops to her knees and Jo smirks.

‘What happened to not my dog?’ she asks, hanging her coat up on the hook. ‘He’s pretty much your dog. Hey babe, you got a growth on your back.’

Cecelia’s daughter neighs at Jo who neighs back.

‘When you have to take a dog on walks at five in the morning, you automatically become the favourite person. Sit pretty Gambit.’ Annie tells the husky, who falls into his newest trick, earning a round of applause from Brutus, and Jo and a dog biscuit from Annie’s pocket.

Gambit follows Annie to the kitchen where she hugs hello to Enobaria and Cecelia and promises Chaff she’ll hug him when he’s not got dirty hands. Finnick raises his eyebrows, and she looks pointedly at the husky puppy looking for more treats.

‘Three in the morning. Your dog.’ she tells him, before taking her bag of presents to fill the spaces in between.

‘Looks like a good haul,’ Haymitch says, still with Cecelia’s kid on his back. ‘Also did you see what Finn got you?’

‘He didn’t have to get me anything.’ Annie tells Haymitch. She bought him a whiskey, a fancy type; and she knows he likes it aged.

She likes the newsprint look, so she’s wrapped them all in brown paper with burgundy bows and sharper messages.

For the kids, she bought the oldest at ten and two cool to really talk to her some sort of hoodie from West 49, the only girl who loves horse got a doll with a hose and the three year old got a train set. She doesn’t have children so it was an odd adventure shopping in the mall, Finnick was useless, besides telling her that no ten year old boy likes those shirts with the funny graphic animals.

She couldn’t take Cecelia shopping, because Cecelia would just tell her to get them books. She’s not going to be the boring Auntie Annie. (She relishes that tile because she’s only been an only child and Cashmere never wanted kids, which is cool and all because Annie isn’t sure if she wants one either-hell she didn’t want a dog either and she has become the primary care giver for a husky puppy owned by a hockey player who doesn’t think things through.)

‘You didn’t have to get us anything either.’ Haymitch points out as he spins away, making the daughter laugh.

‘It’s Christmas,’ she argues, ‘everyone gets presents on Christmas.’

‘Even me?’ She jumps, when Finnick’s cold wet hands slip between her blouse and jeans. She elbows him hard in the gut.

‘You’re making me regret it.’ Annie tells him, as Gambit barks at them happily.

Enobaria and Cecelia laugh, as they followed Finnick and Chaff out of the kitchen.

* * *

 

It’s after dinner, with Baileys and coffee and hot chocolate for the kids do they do presents. Gambit lays down on the floor in from the ottoman Annie’s perched on, while Finnick takes the matching armchair behind her.

Enobaria is giving out presents while Cecelia is taking pictures, Chaff and Haymitch and |Jo on the sofa making the appropriate “ahs and oohs” as well as sarcastic remarks that made Cecelia’s oldest look up from his phone, surprised.

The whiskey goes over well with Haymitch, as does the scotch for Brutus and the aged spice rum for Chaff.

(Hey she likes a theme and sticks with it.)

The spa days for the women get thrilled noises and they’re already planning it for February, which is really the worst month.

Finnick gives her a from behind the back hug when he sees that she’s gotten him from Japan, this anime based on the comics he likes.

She was going to buy him tequila, but he’s twenty-six and it seems like such an…not an old man but not a I have a mortgage and probably some kids gift.

So she bought him anime.

She loves the new blouse Enobaria and Brutus gave her, as well as the Prada bag from Jo and Haymitch. Chaff gives her a book she’s been talking about and Cecelia gives her the DVD collection of Party of Five, and the kids give her they’re favourite Disney movies.

Finnick gives her a Pandora charm bracelet, with only one charm. It’s a rat.

She elbows him softly when he gives it to her.

* * *

 

When she flies home to New Orleans, there’s a letter and a package full of baked goods from Mags and Woof, as well as a gift card for iTunes from Beetree and Wiress. She feels guilty that she only sent them cards and poinsettias.

* * *

 

She rings in New Year’s Eve with her mother, pizza and wine with the cat and two sheep dogs. It’s the type they’ve always had since her dad left; her mother had never been good with people and that suited her just all too well.

She and her mother dress in fancy dresses and when the ball drops they cheers with old wine glasses.

They take a photo with the pizza, wine and the dresses, and it’s cute so she adds a filter and a message and sends it as a New Years iMessage card.

She hesitates but she sends it to Gloss anyway.

Finnick replies right away with a selfie of him and his family, all of them grinning and a message that reads: _Happy New Year Cresta Clan from the Cohen-Latier-Odair Baton Rouge Transplants from Vermont_

She texts him back that it’s a long name, and then he tells her that Mags wants to Facetime and she laughs.

‘Ma do you wanna meet my friends?’ she asks, and Vivienne Cresta smiles and nods getting comfortable in the back of the sofa.

She calls Finnick and it feels like an entire family is crowding in the tiny screen.

It's pixelated and it freezes now and then, but it’s a three hour phone call, with a time difference and everyone’s talking freely and loudly.

Gloss never messages her back.

* * *

 

January means ice and bad driving and also Finnick stops by her work, and won’t leave until she agrees to let him teach how to skate.

Enobaria is watching from her office and when he leaves, she circles.

‘So,’ her boss starts as Annie looks at her computer, typing out more words for a contract. ’You and Finn are going _skating_.’

‘Stop making things sound like we’re having sex.’ says Annie without looking up, ‘It’s nothing.’

‘You have joint custody of a dog.’

Annie rolls her eyes, ‘He bought a dog and then realized he can’t take the dog on the road so he needed a dog sitter.’

‘And he chose you. A girl whom he met less than six months ago with his dog. And he doesn’t even pay you.’

‘He brings take out.’ she says, saving the document. ‘It’s nothing, we’re just friends. Besides there’s still left over Gloss things I need to sort out.’

Enobaria crosses over to sit on the edge of her desk, looking like the poster image of the head of the legal department for overseas business for an extremely large company. ‘Like what? He didn’t even tell you he was dumping you. You were told over a Facebook status.’

‘It’s six years,’ she says softly, looking up behind her black rim glasses. ‘It’s not like it’s a one night stand. It’s my whole life and maybe I ‘m just…maybe I just don’t need somebody.’

‘Oh Cresta,’ says Enobaria in a gentle tone that had just a hint of condensation. ‘Everyone needs someone.’

‘Well I needed someone for six years and they didn’t need me, so forgive me if I don’t want to need someone. Especially Finnick Odair.’

* * *

 

She has no clue where on earth he found this outdoor rink, out in the suburbs; but he’s found one and Gambit is having fun, running on the uneven ice in the light snow like this is a normal occurrence for him.

She knows Finnick keeps on taking Gambit to practise, so maybe it is.

She’s freezing, in her parka and mitts with her toque pulled as far down as she can and her scarf pulled as far up. Finnick laughed when he picked her up, the thrift store figure skates hanging over her shoulder, freshly sharpened and a look of misery incarnated on her face.

‘Oh c’mon,’ he had said, turning and parking their car next to a mail box and on the other side of a snow drift, ‘this will be fun.’

‘I’m going to break a hip.’ she moans, and Finnick makes her sit on the bench while he kneels in front of her tying her skate so tight she thinks she’ll loose circulation. She sits beside him as his deft fingers lace up his skates with route memory and expert precise.

‘Are these your game skates?’

‘Oh no. Not on this ice. No these are my old skates.’ Finnick stands and he’s facing her, with outstretch hands. She looks at him, glancing between his hands, his black skates, her skates and the ice. ‘C’mon, don’t you trust me?’

It’s a slight hesitation, before she sighs and paces her mitts in his gloves and he yanks her up.

‘Oh my god!’ she leans forward and Finnick laughs, adjusting himself with ease, taking all of her weight on his skates.

‘Keep your legs straight,’ he says and there’s no laughter in his voice, but it’s kind and he’s looking at her like he’ll never let her fall. It’s only ice, and it’s only four-maybe five feet that she’d fall, but she trusts him. ‘Look at me, and keep your back straight.’

She fixes her posture and it’s an easy smile on his face and she can feel herself mirror the smile.

‘So move your left foot, then your right. It’s just like shuffle walking.’

‘Because I’ve won the Olympic gold in the shuffle thing.’

Finnick laughs, and it’s quiet as he leads her around and around the rink all while he is skating backwards.

He lets go of her right hand and swerves around so he’s still supporting her weight-only a bit- and the pace is a bit faster. ‘I almost made it you know. The Olympic team in 2014.’

‘Why didn’t you?’ she didn’t watch the Olympics, that was during the period when Gloss’s Facebook job was received and he was so busy sorting out the logistics.

‘Broke my foot. Can’t skate with a cast.’ Finnick is short, and she figures that it’s a sore memory. ‘2018 is probably my last chance.’

‘Why?’

‘I’ll be thirty,’ he tells her, ‘that’s pretty old for pro-hockey life.’

‘Oh.’ she says, ‘What are you going to do after?’

‘Sports commentating maybe? I’m good with people.’

‘I don’t know about that. You called me a mouse.’

‘I _called_ you Master Splinter.’

‘And I keep on telling you that’s not a compliment.’

‘Well what would you call me?’ Finnick lets go of her hand and she stumbles, arms out trying to regain balance. He really needs to let her know when he’s going to let her go so she can prepare and save herself from injury.

‘What?’

‘What animal am I?’

‘A penguin?’

‘That’s a question. You don’t know what animal I am? Cresta you wound me!’

‘It’s out of no where!’

‘It’s not out of no where, it’s totally from somewhere!’ Finnick insists, moving in front of her, skating backwards facing her. She holds out her hands for him to pull her along, but he ignores them, skating backwards faster, making her shuffle along to keep up.

‘Finnick!’

‘What animal am I Cresta?’

‘Finnick! Get back here and-’

‘What animal am I Cresta?’

‘You’re a fucking wolf!’ Annie cries, moving forward faster and her skate hits a crack and she lungs forward, arms out trying to keep her balance, trying to save her face, when she’s suddenly face to zipper of Finnick’s jeans as he’s caught her.

‘Was that so hard?’ Finnick says smugly. Annie pushes him away and falls on her behind while Finnick laughs.

* * *

 

It’s the day of the spa day, and Finnick has promised to figure out why the heating in her apartment is so broken. It’s radiators and she can’t figure out how to make it hot. She had mentioned it when Finnick stopped by after an away game in New York with Korean take out, and she had already made a chicken soup because she had read that chicken has the most protein and he obviously needs it.

(She might have a Google alert on his name on her phone that lets her know that he’s playing not as strongly as expected, but stronger after missing the playoffs last year with a broken foot. Which he got in a fight with the Canadiens. She just doesn’t understand this at all.)

So when she wake sup to Gambit jumping onto her bed, upsetting Demeter in the process, she’s not so surprised. She’s a bit surprised to see Finn in sweatpants and a t-shirt, looking like he fell out of bed leaning against the door frame.

‘Cresta, you’ve got no room in your bed for me.’ he says teasing her. She rolls over closer to the wall, leaving him space. It’s not yet nine and she doesn’t have to be anywhere until noon, so she’s going to sleep as long as she wants.

‘Didn’t you have a game last night?’ she mumbles as Finnick takes the unspoken invitation and slides into the bed, bring the duvet up and making Demeter hiss. Finnick hisses back.

‘Yeah, we won by the way.’ he mutters into the pillow. ‘Five-three.’

‘Congratulations.’

She falls back asleep then.

* * *

 

She’s not late to the spa day, but she’s not early either, and the three women are waiting for her with Starbucks and a knowing expression.

‘You,’ Cecelia says with full authority that motherhood and a no nonsense attitude with dealing with a ten year old boy brings, ‘have sex hair.’

‘What? No I don’t.’ she says automatically self consciously reaching for her hair that she’s thrown up in a messy bun, not brushed at all, when she woke up after her three alarms had gone off-she assumes Finnick was the one who turned them off.

She was a hurricane when she realized it was eleven-twenty-she might have stepped on Finnick as she tried to get out of bed- pulling on last night’s jeans and an oversized hoodie -Finnick’s she realized, because it’s got the Detroit Red Wings logo on it, and Odair on the back,.

She’s a mess, but it’s spa and this is her girl gang, and no one cares right? They only judge you to your face because they love you and they say what you need to hear even if you don’t like it.

That’s what a girl gang is.

‘Yes you do.’ Jo agrees, ‘And you’ve got Finn’s shirt. So what aren’t you telling us?’

‘Nothing!’ insists Annie to the eye rolls of the older women, ‘Nothing happened. He’s just at my place fixing my radiator!’

‘Is that what they call it now a days?’ Cecelia muses, as they get moved in towards the waiting room. ‘Well make sure you’re safe when he’s fixing your radiators, otherwise you get three hot water bottles.’

Annie closes her eyes.

‘You know,’ Enobaria says conversationally, ‘I think it’s cute. Finn’s never had a girlfriend to save his life, and Annie’s never had someone whose exciting so it work out.’

She groans but they talk over her, telling her how cute it is, and when they should plan the wedding.

‘I’m never getting married,’ she tells them steel in her voice, because there’s a whole box of wedding magazines out of date with dogged ear pages and circles of things would be so cute for her wedding with Gloss that never happened-there wasn’t a single hint of a ring, but they had been together six years, it _had_ to be coming- in the back of her closet that she can’t bring herself to get rid of.

‘I am.’ Jo tells them, as they’re moved from the waiting room to the massage room. ‘This July.’

‘He asked you?’ Enobaria asks, after the general silence and then squeals have subsided. ‘When?’

‘Thursday. I just, well we live together and the tax breaks are awesome.’

‘That is the most romantic thing I have ever heard.’ Cecelia says dryly.

‘Not everyone can be fairy tale like you CeCe.’ Johanna shoots back, ‘I don’t see you and Chaff rushing to get hitched anytime soon.’

‘It’s a lot harder when you got kids.’ says Cecelia, ‘I don’t want to--I don’t want to get him into something he doesn’t want.’

‘He wants you.’ says Annie from the far massage bench.

‘And I come with three kids and an involved father,’ the woman in question says, ‘he’s got to be two hundred percent sure he wants this, because it’s a package deal.’

* * *

 

Annie turns twenty-five on the twenty-seventh of February, and it’s a Friday. Finnick probably has a game, Jo and Haymitch have wedding plans, Cecelia has the kids and Chaff is probably covering Finnick’s game. She’s not going to force herself on Enobaria and Brutus, so she figures it’s time to start the Party of Five DVDs she got for Christmas.

She picked up Italian on the way home, so she’s juggling takeout boxes, with keys, as she lets herself into her dark apartment. She’s in the process of kicking off her shoes, and trying to find the light switch, when she hears a noise.

She drops her takeout, and her hands in her person and the minute she hears someone-male-speak she presses and the lights go and Finnick’s clutching his eyes screaming, because she’s just maced him as everyone is yelling “Happy Birthday!”

‘Oh fuck.’

* * *

 

No one’s been able to stop laughing. She maced Finnick who planned a surprise birthday for her, lying to her about a game, knowing she wouldn’t go to it and getting everyone else to lie to her about being busy as well.

He even flew her mother up, and his grandparents who are having a splendid time trading stories about their child or grandchild, respectively, growing up.

‘I’m sorry,’ she says to Finnick offering him another glass of milk, for the tenth time in the past five minutes. ‘I am so sorry.’

‘Don’t worry about it.’ Finnick says as he drinks the milk, ‘At least I can sleep better knowing the likelihood you’ll get mugged is pretty non-existent.’

‘I am so sorry.’

‘Forget about it Annie.’

‘I maced you, I don’t think that’s forgettable!’

‘It’s your birthday, it’s okay.’

‘But if it was any old Friday…’

‘You’d have to buy me a lot of drinks in apology.’

Annie nods, and she leaves her bathroom with the large black and white tiles, to bring Finnick a beer. ‘Personal waitress for the ret of your night, that’s me. ‘

Finnick groans, but accepts the beer, ‘You’re the birthday girl, I can’t let you do that.’

‘I maced you. You can.’

* * *

 

Finnick turns twenty-seven on the fourteenth of March, and his only request is that Annie goes to his game, and so she ends up on a road trip with Gambit, and Demeter who she couldn’t leave out in her tiny falling apart Volkswagen to Toronto.

She leaves them in the hotel, pretty sure that they won’t cause too much damage, and ends up sitting in the reserved seat, right by the designated away team’s bench, in a large jersey-one of Finnick’s ones from the throwback classic that he can’t wear tonight. He insisted she show some spirit.

He winks at her when the game starts, and then ignores her for the twenty minute period, in which Detroit scores twice, and Toronto makes three attempts to score.

In the second period, he gets in a fight with an offensive player and he’s pushed off the ice into the penalty box. She’s glaring at him, because his helmet fell off and this will just end badly if he has a concussion because neither of them have Canadian health insurance.

He sees her glare and he grins, full tooth and widely like this is the best thing in his life.

She rolls his eyes and points to his head, there’s a flash of understand and he gives her a thumbs up and she mimes shooting him in the head, trying to let him know if he gets in the box again, she’ll kill him.

She does not need to deal with a hyperactive puppy, a confused cat and a concussed Finnick all at he same time.

Finnick just grins.

* * *

 

It takes them two hours to leave the Rogers Stadium and to get to Annie’s car, Finnick grinning the Cheshire cat, thrilled with another win, giving her the blow by blow of the entire game as if she had not seen it happen.

‘Do helmets come off often?’ she asks, pulling into the hotel she booked. Finnick’s elected to stay the night with his dog, and her cat and her rather than the team because she drove out her to watch him.

‘I’d say about seventy percent,’ they have to wait while Finnick takes photos and signs random things before they can make it to the elevator.

‘Do you have brain damage?’ she asks, closing the door behind her quickly to prevent Demeter from escaping and letting Finnick bond with his dog. ‘I think that’s how you get brain damage.’

Finnick laughs, ‘You’ll give me brain damage Cresta.’

‘I’m not punching you in the face!’

‘No you just mace me.’

‘I said I was sorry.’

‘Mhm. I’m going to go take Gambit for a walk, coming with?’

‘Yeah, let me just get my coat.

* * *

 

The next day on the drive home, the Google alert for Finnick says he has a girlfriend, and the picture they have is of the two of them in the hotel lobby. She laughs and sends it to him.

He sends her a mouse emoji back.

* * *

 

Detroit gets out of the playoff after round three, and she’s there to console Finnick.

‘The only bright side,’ Finnick tells her as she sautés mushrooms for the pork chops, ‘is that my contract’s up, so I can get more money.’

‘How much more?’ she asks, sidestepping Gambit, and shooing Demeter off the kitchen table.

‘I’m at one point one million right now.’ he says casually and she almost drops the frying pan.

‘Holy. Jesus I was going to tell you you spend too much. But oh shit. Wow.’

‘Don’t think about marrying me for my money Cresta,’ Finnick tease, grabbing some Gatorade he insists on stocking her fridge with. ‘It’s gotta last me the next twenty years.’

‘Then you need to stop spending, because I dream of living in an apartment with better heat control.’

It sounds like Finnick coughs into his Gatorade, but her back’s turned so she doesn’t know.

* * *

 

She’s in Japan, when the draft happens, and she doesn’t know what’s going on until she comes back and her phone is off air plane mode and there’s a bunch of text messages from Cecelia, Jo and Enobaria asking her if she’s okay.

She texts back that she’s fine, and she flicking through her emails when she reads one of the Google alerts.

Finnick’s been traded to the L.A. Kings for five million dollars over the next three years.

He’s leaving.

Annie Cresta is twenty-five years old at the baggage claim of an air port, with some Australia boy band song playing over head, when her heart breaks.

* * *

 

She has a key to his penthouse, she’s not sure when it got on her key ring, but she could hazard a guess it’s at the same time she copied a key for him.

She’s not quite sure what she’s planning on doing or why she’s here, but she’s in his foyer, sitting crossed legged against the wall with Gambit’s head in her lap, waiting for him to come home.

Why didn’t he tell her he was leaving?

* * *

 

It’s three hours later, and he comes in with his suit and tie, and he doesn’t look that surprised to see her sitting on his floor.

‘Hey,’ he says, closing the door and sitting down on the wall opposite her.

‘Hey,’ she says back. ‘Congratulations on the trade.’

‘Thanks.’

‘L.A.’s far.’

‘Yeah.’ It’s silent before he asks her a question, ‘Do you want me to go?’

‘It’s a lot of money,’ Annie says, ‘And a great opportunity. You shouldn’t-you shouldn’t give it up if it gets you closer to the Olympics. That’s what you want right?’

‘I didn’t ask you that.’ Finnick says, ‘I asked you if you want me to stay..’

‘I don’t want you to stay for me or for Jo or anyone. I don’t want you to-I don’t want you to stay for me.’ she falters, and she feels dizzy.

‘You’re not answering the question Annie.’ he says softly.

‘I did! I told you it’s great opportunity, and if you want to go you should go. You shouldn’t-you shouldn’t hold back because of me. I mean it’s not me, it’s everyone. You shouldn’t stop yourself from being happy just because of some people-’

‘Annie do you want me to stay?’ Finnick eyes are solemn, and the air feels heavy, like there’s cement bricks on her chest, suffocating her.

‘Yes.’ she whispers.

Finnick kisses her then, softly.

She kisses him back.

 


End file.
